Dehumanizing Training Camp
Black Fist Past
1
After the instructor left, I was left alone in the room. I turned on the computer with a little luck. I know there is no network cable and no signal here, but I still have a try attitude. The computer creaked for a long time before it turned on. I took a look and, as expected, there was no Internet connection. And the operating system of this computer is in Russian.
Lying bored in bed, I couldn’t help thinking about my fate a year later. Anyway, I must live, I must go back to China, where I have everything I care about. I don’t know what Li Ge said to Ah Guo and my family. Can I get past their suspicions? And Yang Meng, after a long time, she will surely forget me. The physical fatigue brought by the long journey, coupled with my injury, I lay in bed and thought about it for a while, but fell asleep.
I was awakened by a noise. A man came in, put down his plate of food, locked the door and went out.
I’m really hungry. When people live on the plateau, they always get hungry quickly. Especially in the case of high altitude and low temperature, the human body is easy to consume a lot of energy. There were two pieces of bread on the
table, a bowl of gruel, and a salad with meat and vegetables. It tasted good, so I ate it clean.
Every time the same person came to deliver the meal, his face was expressionless, like a zombie, and he put down the meal and left. Once I asked him in English, “Hey, do you have a phone here?” He took one look at me and went out without saying a word.
Half a month later, I was released, and I felt like a prisoner out of prison. But within two days I realized that I was just going from a smaller “prison” to a bigger one. When my
confinement ended, I got a serial number: 1221. The instructor said to me, here, this is my identity, and this year it will replace my name. I am very strange, because this number is my birth date. The instructor also told me that everything here must obey orders, and that boxers who do not obey orders will be shot on the spot.
I feel like it’s colder than Arctic Ocean.
Then I immediately threw myself into the intense and cruel training. When I got up at five o’clock in the morning, whenever I was still asleep, the drill sergeant would rush into the dormitory with a fully armed sergeant and shout loudly, “Get up and go running, you pigs!” We had to scramble to put on our clothes and run around the training camp for an hour under the surveillance of more than a dozen armed sergeants. Running on the plateau is particularly exhausting, and I was panting like a pump the first time I ran. After running, I even had a cramp in my calf. You know, when I was at the base, I had to run ten kilometers every morning, but it was so hard here. Get up at five
in the morning and go to bed at nine in the evening. Except for three meals a day and half an hour of food digestion time left, the rest of the time is spent in training. This massive all-natural training almost broke me down at the beginning, and I didn’t get used to it until more than a month later. There are more than twenty fighters in the
training camp. I am the only Asian. The others are almost all tall white men. There are two black men and one yellow man, but he is an Indian. I don’t know where they all come from, I don’t know if they’re all going to the Black Market Boxing Summit, and I don’t know their names or their past. Here, there is little conversation between us, almost nothing to say. At the end of the day’s training, fatigue made us go back to the dormitory and fall asleep. The next day, when we were still sleeping, we would be woken up by the instructor, rolling and crawling out of bed to run. There is no rule in the
training camp that fighters are not allowed to talk to each other. The indifference between us is entirely spontaneous, and no one has anything to say to anyone. So all I know is their number, just like they know me.
The drillmaster only monitors us all the time, and he is not responsible for the specific training. In addition to him, there is another instructor who is responsible for the specific training every day. We call him the “second instructor.”.
The second drillmaster, like the chip, is a man from Mongolia, tall and strong, as strong as a lion. He has brought the Mongolian lineage into full play in appearance, and his rough lines and wild muscles are like Genghis Khan on the grassland, showing his domineering power. I finally understand why the Mongols were able to conquer the world with hundreds of thousands of cavalry and destroy countless ancient civilizations that made the world feel sorry for them in the case of underdeveloped science, technology, culture and weapons smelting.
The second instructor spoke very poor English, but this did not affect the communication between him and us at all, because most of the time there was no need to speak at all, and it was enough to see. The second drillmaster didn’t say anything at all when explaining how to strengthen the strength of sweeping legs. Instead, he kicked the huge sandbag three times in a row. After kicking, the sand “clattered” down. Silence is better than sound, and his body movements are more effective than any words. The shin of
this guy’s calf is like iron. If such a person is placed in the ring of regular fighting, he may have already become an excellent boxer and become famous all over the world. But now he’s just a combat instructor employed by the Russian Mafia, and I don’t even know his name.
This is that everyone’s life trajectory is different. Some people are born with a golden key in their mouth, and some people work hard all their lives but end up as a commoner. There is nothing to say about fate. The level of boxers trained
here is very high, not to put too fine a point on it, almost all of them are at the same level as me. Although I am a yellow man, after a long period of hard training, I have no disadvantage with these tall and strong white and black people here, except for some gaps in height, which can not be remedied the day after tomorrow. The training
here has nothing to do with moves, because everyone’s skills are already very skilled. In addition to a lot of physical training, there are three other focuses of training: speed, strength and hardness.
Speed and strength depend on the explosive power of muscles. There is very little fitness equipment in the training camp, but it is well used. Through rapid two-thirds continuous squats, 30% body weight pull-ups, weight-bearing and abdominal impact sit-ups, and continuous deadlifts.. And so on, a lot of training to strengthen the fighting muscles, making the tendons stronger, more powerful contraction, instant burst faster and more sufficient. You can’t find useless fat on every fighter here. Every inch of muscle is needed for combat and is ready to burn for a burst. The hardness of the
body depends on the hardness of the bones. The process of building bone hardness is extremely painful. They use a method that was used in ancient China. As far as I know, this method of exercise is still used by some people who practice hard Qigong today. They use a solid wooden stick to grind the shin of the calf and the arm back and forth. After pain and heat, they knock it back and forth from light to heavy. After knocking, intensive sweeping kick and boxing training will be carried out. There is a kind of sandbag filled with small stones in the training camp, which is very heavy and is specially used to exercise the hardness of bones.
When hitting this kind of sandbag, the face of the fist, the instep of the foot and the calf are often worn open. Therefore, the surface of this sandbag is deposited with the blood of many boxers, mottled in color, deep and shallow, like Yunnan’s plain cloth tie-dyed. After
such cruel training, the training camp has trained not boxers, but a group of fighting machines. The people here are calm, cold-eyed and unsmiling. With the cruel training every day, my soft heart gradually hardened and accepted the default values of all boxers: survival of the fittest and facing death unflinchingly. The harsh winter soon came to
Siberia. The winter here is cold and long, and all the rumors about it are absolutely not covered. The King of Spades once said, “You can freeze your lungs.” I have a deep feeling.
In winter, even in the coldest time, the training here is as usual every day. When training at the base, there is one day off every week, but in this training camp controlled by the Russian Mafia, there is not even one day off. At that time, I remembered that the best time was half a month when I was confined.
There was no heating or any other heating equipment in the training camp. During the day, I had a persistent fever, but when I stopped for more than five minutes, the sweat on my body tended to freeze into ice. In order to keep myself warm, I can only train like crazy. In the evening, there is a big freezer in the dormitory, and you can feel the cool air behind your head when you are wrapped in a quilt. Getting up early to run
in winter is the most painful thing, and I really don’t want to leave the warm bed. The Siberian winter air is especially cold in the wee hours of the morning. When you run and gasp for breath, the cold air seems to scatter countless steel needles in your lungs.
Unlike the training at the base, there is no actual combat practice here, just crazy to hone everyone’s basic skills and hitting power. The second instructor told us in broken English that the most powerful fighter is to kill with one blow. No matter who he faces, he can burst out with destructive power and solve his opponent with the most direct moves. Too much technology will only get you killed. It’s pointless for boxers of our level to practice in actual combat. If you want to survive in the future, you have to practice how to raise your attack speed and strength to the limit.
Under the guidance of this idea, everyone, including me, trained hard like a machine. My mind is getting rougher and rougher with practice, and I hardly have time to think about Argo and anyone else.
The Siberian climate is devastating to human survival, and although we can withstand the cold with a strong body, not everyone is indestructible. The other yellow man besides me was the Indian, who at last gave an unbearable groan one night.
I was woken up in my sleep because his bunk was next to mine. I tried to sleep again, but the Indian’s murmur of pain lingered in my ears like a nightmare. After tossing and turning for a while, I finally couldn’t stand it any more. I leaned over and asked, “1106, what’s wrong with you?”
‘Oh.. I’m sorry. I think I have a cold. I’m burning all over. Murmured the Indian, his voice sounding weak.
I sat on the bed for a while, knowing that it was none of my business, but I put on my clothes and said, “Wait a minute, I’ll call a doctor for you.”
“Don’t go out,” he stopped me. “Go out after lights out, and the soldiers on guard outside will shoot you. You don’t have time to explain your reasons.
I listened to his weak gasp and asked, “What then?”
It’s okay.. Leave me alone. He turned around and said no more. I went over and touched his forehead with my hand. It was terribly hot.
“You’ve caught a cold.” I could feel the hot breath coming out of his nose. A tough fighter like him wouldn’t have groaned if he hadn’t been burned by a cold. I asked him, “Do you have any medicine for fever?”
“No, leave me alone and go to bed quickly.” “Thank you, 1221,” he said weakly.
I also want to sleep, and I have to run early tomorrow morning. But beside my bed, there is a person who is suffering from a cold and fever. How can I sleep? I thought about it and decided to help him in my own way.
Do you have any coins? 1106, I think I can help you.
“There are some coins under my bunk.” The Indian asked me weakly, “What are you going to do?”
I took out a coin from under his bed, rolled over onto his bed and said, “Scraping.”
Whether he was riding a man or a woman, his body was now powerless to resist. I turned him over and lifted his clothes to expose his back. The Indian was suddenly excited. “1121, what are you going to do?”
“Don’t worry, I’m not gay.” Shit, I don’t have a hobby of exploding chrysanthemums. As I scraped a coin from his neck down his spine, I said, “I’m going to use traditional Chinese medicine to help you relieve your pain.”
I have never studied Chinese medicine, but I have a grandmother who loves the theory of Chinese medicine very much. When I was young, whether I had a cold or diarrhea or a cold or fever, she always used scraping to help me treat it, as if this technique could cure all diseases. And every time I recover quickly, I don’t know whether her prescription works or I have a good constitution. People who
are scraped are very painful, because when they rub the skin repeatedly, they must exert themselves to force out the heat toxin hidden under the capillaries. The Indian’s back muscles were strong and his skin was rough, so I had to hit him a little harder, and he moaned even harder. A white man next to us rolled over, looked at us and said, “What are you doing?”
I couldn’t explain it, so I scraped harder and finally finished the work when my arm was about to cramp. I patted the Indian on the shoulder. “All right, that’s all I can do.”. Hurry up and have a good sleep.
“Anyway, thank you, 1221.” The Indian touched his burning back with his hand. It was obvious that he had no idea why I had hurt him so much.
I go to bed and sleep. Not knowing whether it was my comfort to him or the pain of scraping that diluted the discomfort of the cold, the Indian did not groan in pain any more, and I soon fell asleep. The next morning, the first drillmaster rushed into the dormitory on time like an alarm clock, shouting, “Get up quickly and go out for a run, you dead pigs!”
I rolled and crawled to put on my clothes and shoes, and suddenly I was patted behind my back. I turned around and saw the Indian standing behind me with a sincere look on his face and said, “1221, thank you, I feel much better.”
“Ancient Chinese wisdom.” I nodded to him and went out for a run. I can’t talk to him too much. The drillmaster’s eyes are sharp.
At breakfast, the Indian finally found a chance to talk to me. Judging from his good spirit, this guy is almost recovered. He asked me, “What was the treatment you did on me yesterday?”? Witchcraft? It’s
not witchcraft. It’s called scraping, and it’s a traditional Chinese treatment. Traditional Chinese medicine believes that people have yin and Yang, cold and heat, and that diseases in the human body are caused by the disharmony between yin and Yang and the imbalance between cold and heat. Scraping can dredge the channels and collaterals, dilate the capillaries, force out the heat-toxin hidden under the capillaries, and balance yin and Yang. I struggled to explain these awkward theories in unskilled English, and I don’t know if he understood them.
The Indian was stunned for a long time before he suddenly said, “Cool!”
“Do you understand?”
“I don’t know much about it, but it feels good.” He nodded his head.
“Er..” 1106, are you really an Indian? Why don’t I feel like you?
“I am of pure Indian blood.” “There are very few such bloodlines,” he said in a haughty tone. But don’t think I live in a tribe. I lived in Los Angeles for many years.
“Los Angeles?” “Then how did you get here?” I asked.
“For my wife and my child, who is two years old this year.” The Indian’s eyes darkened. “If I don’t come, they will suffer.”. I can’t help it.
I patted him on the shoulder. “Don’t be sad.”. I’m about the same as you.
“Bang!” Suddenly a pair of big hands suddenly pressed on the dining table. I was startled. I looked up and saw the blue eyes of the first drillmaster staring at us fiercely: “Boys, we had a good chat.”. Now, all of you, go train for me!
“Drill Sergeant, we haven’t finished eating yet.” I held up my dinner plate and said.
That’s your problem! Breakfast time is over. Now get out of here right now! Right now Cried the drillmaster fiercely. In
any case, in this training camp as cold as the Arctic Ocean, I still have a friend who can talk at ordinary times, and that is the Indian. Although we didn’t talk much, and although I didn’t even know his name in the end, I just called his number “1106”, but in this day of training like a machine, it was a small comfort to the soul. The long,
cold Siberian winter is finally over, and the climate is slowly warming up again. I used to hate summer, the hot sun and the sweat, but after living in Siberia, I think the heat of summer is a gift from the Creator to mankind. The training
in the training camp is nearing the end, and nearly a year has passed. If I leave like this and go to the Black Market Boxing Summit like this, no matter what the result is, I will have some warm memories of this training camp. However, one thing that happened here made me hate this training camp, the world of black boxing, and even Siberia.
I will always hate that day. July 15, 2007, Siberia, Putorana Plateau Training Camp. All of
us, two dozen fighters sitting in the gym. The second drillmaster, the tough Mongolian, suddenly announced that he would let us fight in pairs. Everyone
is very strange, because the second instructor said before, with our level, it is meaningless to carry out actual combat practice. A white man asked, “Drill Sergeant, didn’t you say there was no need for actual combat practice?”
No, I didn’t ask you to practice in actual combat. Today’s training is the last one: the psychology of killing. You must be cold at all times, and when you face the enemy, you must not show the slightest mercy. The second instructor’s voice was cold. “Of the fighters you two fought today, only one will survive.”. In other words, you must kill each other.
Raise your seats and be frightened! I can’t believe my ears! Isn’t this going to make us kill each other? I thought such a perverted thing could only be seen in movies! Did not expect, but to really happen in their own body!
「1003，3026。 You two are the first group. The second drillmaster’s voice was not tinged with emotion. “Go.”
Two tall white men stood up and looked at each other in disbelief. Both of them just stood, and neither of them did anything. 1003 suddenly shouted, “No, Instructor, I can’t do that!”
Although the conversation between us is not much, some people have not said a few words a year, but after all, living together for such a long time, imperceptibly, it is false to say that there is no feeling. Black fighters are also human beings. They just go into the world for different goals and beliefs. They can be cruel in the ring because that’s their enemy. And here, we are all faced with teammates who live and train together, and we are all familiar faces that can’t be more familiar.
“1003, I warn you again, right now, go!” The second drillmaster said coldly.
1003 looked at the other, and the muscles on his face twitched slightly. He took a step forward, froze, and then suddenly knelt down, holding his head in his hands and shouting in a low voice: “Oh, no, damn it, I can’t do that..”
“Bang!” A sudden gunshot startled me. By the time I came to my senses, 1003 was lying on the ground, motionless, and the blood under him was slowly filling the air. The first drillmaster, who had been standing nearby, put the pistol back into the holster and said without expression, “I think you all should know what the consequences of disobeying orders are.”
Two guards carried 1003’s body away, leaving only a pool of blood. The fighter I trained with for a year is gone in the blink of an eye, and it’s easier to die than a chicken. My heart seemed to be gripped by a big hand, and I was almost out of breath.
“1114, now team up with 3026. Fight begins.” The second drillmaster said in a deep voice, like a call from hell. It was impossible
to resist, surrounded by heavily armed sergeants with automatic rifles in their hands. If you resist in this situation, you will die. 1114 stood up and walked forward with an ashen expression.
3026 just witnessed his opponent being shot on the spot, and I saw his hands trembling slightly. Not only him, but also my hand was shaking slightly. I have never been so afraid, as if the unknown death is waiting for me ahead.
3026 and 1114 fought together, and soon 3026 knocked 1114 to the ground. 1114 covered his soft rib and curled up painfully on the ground. The second drillmaster said to 3026, “Kill him.” 1114, who
had fallen to the ground, looked up at 3026, his eyes full of horror. The corner of 3026’s mouth twitched, and he hit 1114’s head with his fist, making a muffled sound of “bang”. 1114’s body curled up even more, like a frozen prawn. 3026 After a series of punches, he stood up and shouted, “No, I can’t do that, you sons of bitches!”
Bang! Bang! Two bursts of automatic rifle fire! After the shooting, 1114 and 3026 both fell to the ground. 3026 has a hole in his head, and his angry eyes are still open. I turned my head with difficulty and saw plumes of smoke coming from the muzzles of two soldiers’ guns, and the shells that had just fallen rolling under my feet.
I feel cold all over. Even in the coldest winter in Siberia, I have never been so cold. In the
blink of an eye, three lives were lost. They are the strongest boxers in all regions. They have survived in the ring, destroyed countless opponents, experienced countless hardships, and passed the test like steelmaking. But here, just in a snap of their fingers, their tenacious lives have gone up in smoke and ended in a hurry. I don’t even know their names.
Anger and fear are intertwined. I really didn’t think that killing people could be so simple.
I believe that not only me, but everyone was shocked. The fighters in the next group did not hesitate any more, and then launched a fierce fight. After a black man knocked down a white man severely, he used the “guillotine” in the ground skill to tightly choke the white man’s neck. With a roar of pain, the black man suddenly increased his strength, clamped his arms and lifted them, and I heard the sound of a broken cervical vertebra. The white man’s neck was broken by the powerful strangling force, and his struggling hands dropped. Because his neck was strangled by the thick arms of the black man, he did not even groan when he died. But in a minute, a fresh life ended hastily. The results of the
training camp have finally been highlighted, and I think they are satisfied. Here, the fight becomes very fast, the same strength of the two opponents, will not exceed two minutes to separate life and death. Because everyone’s speed and strength have been trained to the limit, everyone has a strong fist and a pain-free sweeping kick. Anyone who is accidentally hit by the other side, then he will not be able to withstand the power he also has.
I nervously swept every fighter’s face, not knowing who I would be fighting. I didn’t want to kill anyone, nor did I want to be killed by them. I saw 1106, the Indian, whose eyes were as black as mine and full of sadness. In an instant, a bad premonition occupied my brain! At the end of the
first few groups, the second instructor called my number: “1221, 1106, the fight begins!”
My heart began to beat violently! Sure enough, I really guessed, they really want to arrange me to do a life-and-death battle with 1106! This is not because we are both yellow skin, nor because we are equally strong, but because in this training camp, our relationship is the best. The first drillmaster knows this very well.
This is what they want to see! This is the training method they use to cultivate the “cold psychology” of boxers! This is their shameless idea!
Record No.: YX01v0LEbM4kqemBr
Dead Genghis Khan
Black Fist Past
Ouyang Gan
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